The Dramatic Spiel of Arthur and Chardonnay~ (7,121 views)

He frowned but she had a point – just because she knew they existed didn’t mean that she knew how much they were. He could probably look it up on his phone but he didn’t know where it was. It was in his back pocket when she’d come over, but he was pretty sure that it had fallen out... somewhere. Was it on his floor? Or maybe it was still in his pants somehow? A quick survey of his floor proved fruitless – he saw his pants on the ground and wanted to go and look, but at the same time, he didn’t want to move. So he sat on his bed staring over at Chardonnay, brows twitching in irritation. He wished she’d never laughed – hell, he wished he could get her laughter out of his head so that he wouldn’t feel so self-conscious at this moment, so that he wouldn’t mind going back into the mood they’d had going before. But he couldn’t forget it and he ran his fingers through his hair, messing it up, irritated with the fact that he’d almost had sex... and then he hadn’t. Because man he missed it. It was all her fault for not being able to accept that plaid (a perfectly FINE pattern) was common for boxers.

Fucking hell...

If it pissed her off that much he might actually consider getting one – because he was sure that if he didn’t she’d just give up on him and find some other fuck buddy. It was really a matter of finding them, though... and he knew that when he did find one he’d probably buy one not up to Chardonnay’s impossible standards. He still didn’t know why she was still here – why she still wanted to come here. He flushed again at her retort, which wasn’t wrong.

”I’m not the one with a complaint! It was perfectly fine for me,” He started, but then he realized what he was calling ‘perfectly fine’ and flushed darker, expression squirming. When she suggested going it was almost a relief because the more they argued the more flustered he felt and he needed to take a shower before he went to bed to cool off. He really couldn’t believe this was happening – that he had someone who he was going to be sleeping with regularly (maybe?) and that of all people for it to be, it was Chardonnay. ”...ugh, whatever, I’ll think about it. You can go if you want. The only reason we’re not screwing right now is because you can’t accept that you are the only person on the damn earth who doesn’t think plaid is normal.” He shifted and grabbed the covers, throwing them over his head, grumbling something under his breath.

After her comments, Arthur had just nestled himself tighter underneath the covers, deciding that if she was just going to commentate like that, he was going to stay where he was until she left. He grumbled some kind of a response to her calling him a child, as his face flushed even more, but he stayed in his cocoon until he heard her feet trotting across his carpet and into the living room. He heard the door open and, once she had left, he finally allowed himself to lower the covers and breathe. He stared at his ceiling, taking a few deep breaths.

What the fuck had he gotten himself into?

The rest of that night had gone fairly well. He took a cold shower after she left and cleaned up his living room – which really just meant taking his now wrinkled clothes off of the ground and taking them into his room. The next morning he washed them, and spent his day off watching shows to try and distract himself. Still he found his attention wandering to his phone, and when he allowed himself to fiddle with the device, he found his nickname for her staring back at him. He knew what they’d arranged. If one of them wanted something they’d text the other. And she could come over, and... he found his thoughts wandering. It was too soon to call her back – the memory of her stopping the foreplay due to laughter was fresh. That day he’d smoked on the patio, gotten no texts, and went to bed at a reasonable hour. The next few days were fine, he worked and then came home. On Thursday night he went over to Susan’s apartment to eat dinner and watch Adelaide for a few hours. He’d been on his way to leave at about 8 that evening when he got a text and saw who it was from and he’d almost forgotten that she was still texting him. It surprised him for a minute until he felt a flush beginning to form at the back of his neck. He disguised it as him just being tired and left his sisters’. Before he hit the gas, he told Chardonnay that he’d be home and drove back, exhaling a deep breath.

He’d made sure he wasn’t wearing plaid anything (his shirt was a plain blue tee and his boxers were plain) and he was thankful that he hadn’t smoked that day but took a tic-tac anyway, not sure if his breath was actually atrocious. Being without plaid and with better tasting breath gave him confidence that had been lacking last time, and so when she knocked he was right there at the door. Though he knew what she wanted from him and she knew what he wanted from her, he beat around the bush for a few minutes until the tension broke and then the sex was amazing, better than the first two times they’d done it. He wasn’t sure if it was just that they were growing more experienced with and accustomed to one another, or if he just had pent up frustration from having failed miserably last time. It was probably some mix of the two.

The next morning he woke up to his alarm clock blaring at 5 AM, and as he slowly came to he realized that she was still there sleeping in his bed. He debated waking her up but couldn’t bring himself to do it, because she really did look so much calmer when she was sleeping. He slowly entered the realm of consciousness as he took a shower and got dressed in a pair of black slacks and a red button down. He didn’t know if he’d woken Chardonnay up but if he had she didn’t make any noises. He left a note for her on his table which... felt weird. But he knew she wasn’t the type to steal (what the hell would he have that she’d want to take, anyway) and she was smart enough not to leave the door unlocked. His note said that he’d gone to work and that he’d locked the door when he left – so all she had to do when she went to go back home (or whatever it was she did, he didn’t know her schedule) was lock the door again on her way out with the spare key he left on the table and to text him when she wound up leaving. He felt a little weird just leaving her there but felt waking her would have been worse, so he just left.

That day actually went well and his boss, Mr. Carmichael, actually commented that he was in a better mood than he usually was. His coworkers cracked some stupid joke about him getting laid and he brushed the comments off by saying that he was single – which technically wasn’t a lie – since it felt weird to just say he had a fuckbuddy. Besides, Chardonnay certainly wasn’t going to put their... partnership, if it could even be called that, on display. So he felt no need to.

The rest of the week went pretty well, until the second time she’d texted him, the next Tuesday night. That time he’d been alone at his house and had, actually, smoked, so he tried to flood the taste out with the taste of breath mints. He assumed it worked, because she didn’t comment on it. By that point he’d actually gone out and found a mattress pad (which wasn’t actually that bad in price) and applied it to his bed. It did make it more comfortable to sleep on and, admittedly, the sex did feel better on it. He still wasn’t sure if it was ‘up to par’ for Chardonnay but she’d seemed to enjoy the sex just as much as he had. And she was still there when he woke up for 5 AM on Wednesday morning, and, like he’d done last Friday, he’d left her a similar note telling her to text him when she left.

The third time had almost been initiated by him, but he’d chickened out. It was 1 day after the 4th of July – which had been spent with Susan and Adelaide at some big old BBQ Metric had put on for its teachers still in the neighborhood. Susan had gotten drunk off of her ass and Arthur had to get her and Adelaide home safely, but Adelaide threw a fit that night. He got no sleep and while Susan counted sheep in her room Arthur was left to deal with his screaming niece, hyped up on sugar and adrenaline, as she begged to go over to Annabelle’s house. But the Halls were busy that day so she couldn’t, and she was mad, and by the time he got home the morning of the 5th, he was drained and stressed the fuck out. He found himself faced with a choice – text Chardonnay, or smoke one of his last remaining cigarettes. He’d almost texted her but thought she must surely be hung over or something following the holiday and so he chose the cigarette, which was a bad choice, because a half hour into his smoke she’d sent him a text. He quickly snuffed out the cigarette and replied in affirmation (maybe a little too eager, but he didn’t stop to think about that).

He downed a few more mints and when she showed up at his door he practically dragged her in and pulled her into his bedroom without so much as a hello, which normally he at least gave her. But he’d been desperate for something to make him feel better, desperate to be touched, so he took control and when he woke up the next morning he was thankful he had the day off. That was the first morning he’d actually been able to stay until Chardonnay woke up (the peaceful beauty of her sleeping expression, he also realized that day, faded immediately when she woke up). And the last time they’d slept together was only a few days ago, but God he couldn’t get her out of his head, and he was so frustrated, he was going to scream.

It was mid-July and Arthur was in his living room, his hands running through his hair, his breath shallow. Work had been agonizingly slow and it was a Saturday night, which was almost unheard of. But, his boss reasoned, the drop in sales today had probably been because nothing new was showing. It made sense, but still. Arthur hated slow days, because then all he could do with his time was think. Many of the people who he worked with, aside from his boss and the two other temporary assistant managers, were part-timers. They were young, high school age, and even though he wasn’t that much older than them he found it so difficult to relate to them. Sure, he knew they liked him better than the other assistants because he actually helped them with the mundane stuff his promotion no longer required him to attend to, but it was so hard to talk to them. And when his thoughts started wandering he usually daydreamed about the Coming Soon ads on the walls. And there was that one actress, Arthur didn’t even know her name, but she was in a poster for some stupid action movie and there was something about her facial structure and body type that reminded him of Chardonnay. At work he’d been able to brush the memory out of his mind but when he was home, and alone, all he could think about was touching her again and how frustrated he was getting and he was so goddamn desperate, he hated himself. What the hell was he going to do with himself if she was busy tonight? Never mind. He really didn’t need to think about that right now.

But at the same time he was still hovering over her name in his contacts, their previous chat log visible. He’d texted last, and it had been a confirmation that he was home when she’d asked. He sighed as he typed out a message.

Are you busy?

He hit send before he could give himself a chance to read it and pulled at his hair, even ore frustrated. Their deal said that either could send the other a message, and they’d respond, but he’d never been the initiator before. He pressed his palm to his forehead in annoyance. He felt so stupid – she probably just saw this as a way to vent off steam but lately the more sex he got the more he craved it and this was getting ridiculous. He should start to control himself.

But, still. He bit his lip as he waited for her to respond. He could control himself next time.

Her response came a little more delayed than he thought it would – and it was probably because he was overthinking it that he was starting to think she might come over and laugh at him for having texted her. It was a completely unfounded fear, because the last four times they’d slept together had all been her prompting. So she wanted him, he figured out each time she came over. And if her reactions when she got here weren’t indication of that enough, the way she touched him and kissed him when they were on their way towards his bed had to indicate something. He could still remember how she’d sounded, the way she’d moaned, and God why did she have to live a damn hour away? He was both nervous and excited for her to come over – but as the hour winded down and he was expecting her any minute, the nervousness began to take over. He hated that he felt this way. Obviously she wasn’t nervous when she texted him! So why on earth was he?

He heard her knock and went to the door, opening it. She was there in a very classy dress, looking like she’d just come from something important. While she usually dressed up, he thought it was a little over the top even for her. Before he could worry too much about it though she pulled him into her and said thank God against his lips and he almost melted because that meant she wanted this, too, that whatever incident she’d been at, she’d wanted a way to his apartment instead. Even though she’d come to his apartment overdressed, it didn’t take very long to get her undressed. Any worries he’d had about her not wanting to come over dissipated when she was on top of him, their bodies pressed together, with her lips wandering his body and the vibrations of her moans ticking his skin. After they’d finished he’d put on his sweatpants and flicked off the light, crawled into bed, and fell asleep easily.

He didn’t wake up when Chardonnay did and was curled up, cuddling one of his pillows. His breath rose and fell in sleep. He didn’t have work tomorrow, so there was no alarm set... he was expecting no rude wakeup calls. He’d probably wake up to her face again, assuming she didn’t leave before he woke up (as she hadn’t the last morning she’d been there to critique his mattress mad). He heard something loud and slowly was ripped out of his dreams, which had been pleasant ones, irritated at first. He noticed that Chardonnay wasn’t in the bed beside him and furrowed his brows, because he thought she was here. Hadn’t they just had sex, or had that been one vivid – but then he heard it, a louder crash, and he shot up out of bed. His first concern as that she’d hurt herself and he’d heard the sounds coming from the bathroom.

”Are you oka–“ He started, but when he flicked on the lights from the doorway he got to take in the situation. His shower curtains were ripped, the little hooks holding them up broken. The curtain itself was strewn across Chardonnay’s torso and waist. He rose his brows when he saw her in his shirt from earlier. They were the same height so he always thought his clothes wouldn’t look much different on her than they did him but he had broader shoulders than she did so it actually did looked looser – not to mention, it was hiked up, and if the curtain wasn’t there across her waist he might have gotten a view of her that would have made him blush (even though he’d already seen her naked body, it still made him blush). But because she was covered, flustered, and there was no blood anywhere the situation made his mouth twitch upwards instead of downwards. Chardonnay had tripped into his tub. She’d tripped into his fucking tub. Her legs were sprawled over the edge of the tub and even though he knew he should offer to help her, what wound up happening was laughter.

He doubled over and hid his mouth with his hand to muffle the sound, because this was ridiculous. Why hadn’t she turned on the light? She knew his bathroom was different than hers must be by now, right? Had she forgotten she was here? He didn’t know, but whatever the reason was, he couldn’t stop laughing as he hunched over. It had to be 3 or 4 AM by now, he wasn’t sure the exact time. He tried to calm down and looked over at her again, unable to hide the snickers.

”Good job, Princess.” He said, offering her the hand that wasn’t obscuring his mouth. He had a feeling she’d swat it away and get mad at him, but that would just make the whole situation funnier to him.

As he thought, she was furious. But even though he should feel bad that she was sprawled on the bottom of his shower, sore from falling, all he could do was laugh even more when she responded to his offer of assistance with hostility. Especially since he saw her face go red with an emotion he rarely saw on her face – embarrassment. Sure, she’d been flustered around him but never quite as embarrassed as she was now. In fact, with the way she was trying to hide her face it was like she’d taken a page out of his book. And he was going to milk this moment for as long as he got it, because it was a side to her he never got to see. It made him feel a little less stupid. He knew he was extremely awkward when it came to making mistakes and their whole fuckbuddy relationship, and he felt like she was so much more collected about it than he was. But here they were – or here she was – after tripping over his tub.

He met her glare with a bemused look, brows raised, as she struggled to get herself in a more composed position. He was used to her glares, because he was used to pissing her off, and maybe that was the reason that the fierceness behind it seemed to dwindle to him as he regarded her, because her face was flushed and she was still squirming to get comfortable. Her angry words didn’t faze his grin because this was payback. She’d made him feel just as humiliated – if not, more humiliated, maybe – when she just burst into laughter when she saw his boxers and killed his mood. It was time for some revenge.

Though he had to admit he was glad they’d already had sex, because she sure as hell wouldn’t want him tonight after this.

”When I bought my apartment I didn’t think you’d be over here. Ever. World doesn’t revolve around you, Princess. Besides, the bathroom’s fine with me. I don’t trip into the tub.” She was going to be too stubborn to accept help, was she? Fine. He could watch her struggle with embarrassment. He rolled his eyes at her comment about lights. ”You didn’t even turn on the lights, don’t complain about them. I came in here and it was dark. And then you – Jesus fucking Christ, how dumb do you have to be to trip over the tub? Karma’s a bitch,“ he snorted, remembering the position she’d been in when he came into the bathroom. Though now he could see the way she rubbed the back of her neck and he smirked, still amused, but no longer hysterical. ”Seriously. Need help?”

Her furious retorts didn’t make him feel any worse, in fact they just made him more entertained. Who the hell didn’t have their shower connected to their tub? It was completely pointless to have them be separated, in his opinion. So her bathroom, wherever it was, must be some kind of luxury room in her house? She was ridiculous, and automatic lights? Hell no! That was so dumb. It wasn’t that hard to feel along the wall for a circuit. Really.

”You’re just spoiled, so you think that stuff’s necessary. Except it’s not. It’s a luxury. That crap’s expensive.” He replied, not that she knew the difference between the two. Still, his venom wasn’t as strong as it usually was, because his grin wasn’t going away. He couldn’t stay mad when he saw her looking of out of her element like this – it was too fun.

She really was flustered, and it was so unusual to see he probably should have seen her response coming. The second she agreed to be helped he should have seen that as a red flag, because why the hell would Chardonnay ever agree to being helped by him? But he didn’t see it. Maybe he was too tired from his long day, or maybe it was his good mood because of the sex from a few hours ago. When she called him an asshole the grin became cocky as he wrapped his hand around hers, beginning to pull her up as she lifted herself. He was caught off-guard when she yanked him down and he swore loudly.

Having not expected it, he went down like a pile of bricks. He hit his head on the side of the tub and cursed. Now he was on top of Chardonnay, his face squished against the skin of her shoulder, his legs a tangled mess with hers. His head still throbbed from being pulled down, and he groaned against her skin. He propped himself up to glare down at her, the scowl back on his face.

”What the fuck is your problem!? I was trying to help you up!” He snapped, his face beginning to flush from his own embarrassment at having fallen into the tub with her. His shower curtains (he’d have to replace them later) were ripped due to him falling on them, too. Great.

The last time they were in a position this compromising, they were locked in the gym closet all night and then, at the last second, they’d tripped and fallen with him on top of her. Back then they were younger and though the position was awkward it wasn’t nearly as much as it was now, simply because she was naked save for his shirt and the ripped shower curtains, which were tangled around her waist, the only thing preventing him from seeing all of her. He could feel his chest squishing down into Chardonnay’s and he lifted himself up higher, so that he was no longer crushing her. He looked down at her body – with the initial idea to make sure she wasn’t bruised or anything – but he wound up getting distracted by the curtain. Normally he’d be more interested in what was underneath the curtain but he had to replace them, and he groaned. But she wasn’t injured, from what he could see anyway, and now that he’d repositioned himself he wasn’t crushing her anymore.

”Don’t fucking give me that! You’re the one who dragged me down here! And now my goddamn curtains are ripped.” Arthur snapped. Even though she told him to get off this was her damn fault – he was in no rush to do so. When her lips tilted up into a smirk he growled in irritation. Watching her look like she’d won this even though she was the one who’d nearly gotten herself crushed by him and he was the one on top of her right now was so annoying. Mostly because the stupid confident look on her face made him want to kiss her, but the stupid tub was too tight, and this was all so stupid. As he moved to get better footing, he became very aware of how close their bodies were and how little clothing they were wearing. He hoisted himself up with a wince, stepping out of the tub. And before she could push him back down or shove him into the sink to kill him or something of the like he grabbed her arm and yanked her up, too, refusing to look down at her waist because he was pretty sure that his shirt had ridden up to her midsection. His face was tinted pink as he grit his teeth. ”Well, you sure like my help getting off! And why the fuck are you allowed to laugh at me, then?! At least in this situation you actually did something stupid!”

”You’re the one who dragged me down! I wouldn’t have ripped them if you hadn’t tried to yank me! I complain about buying shit because I shouldn’t have to replace these things, they were brand new. Unlike you, I grew up without money!” He snapped, after he got her up and standing in front of him. When she fell into his chest he took a breath, and glared back down at her, but she moved away from him in an instant. Her scent still lingered in his nose, though,t hat perfume she wore was still there even after last night’s sex and this... morning? Was it technically morning? Whatever. This morning’s ‘shower incident’. Her perfume had survived and that got on his nerves. Everything was getting on his nerves. When she wrenched her arm out of his grip he didn’t protest, and snorted in retaliation.

”I wasn’t doing it for your sake, I was doing it so that I know you can’t shove me down again. I don’t need to get a concussion because of you!” His head had already stopped hurting (though unfortunately he was now wide awake) and he was very conscious of everything around him... including the fact that Chardonnay’s nipples had begun to harden under his shirt and he was very deliberately not thinking about that right now. Her retribution made him blush harder. ”I don’t – I didn’t say I asked – I don’t need your help – you – if you didn’t want my help so much you wouldn’t keep coming over, and I – okay I don’t need it, but I prefer it and I’m just saying that as an example. An example! You, you’re so damn stubborn,” by the end of his stuttered failure of a speech his face had abandoned pink and was working on red again. God. He hated being so prone to blushing. At least he wasn’t the only one blushing – he could see it on her cheeks, and before he could stop himself his eyes darted down to the hemline of his shirt on her, lingering on the skin of her thighs before he snapped himself back up to her face, folding his arms over his chest. ”It’s stupid because you should have turned on the light! It would have taken you two seconds and you wouldn’t have woken me up!”

God damn it. Why didn’t he just leave the bathroom and go curl up in bed? Her comments were sexual again and even though he’d had sex with her – what, it had to be at least 7 times by now – it still made him shy thinking about it. Especially when he’d texted her earlier, and when he’d grabbed her without hesitation and just started to kiss her, and when she texted him it made his mood lift, and yeah, he’d tried to get himself off without her since but it wasn’t really the same. And oh God he hated it. Sometimes he wished that he hadn’t had sex with her, if only because now that he knew what that felt like nothing else felt good.

”It’s all your goddamn fault! I got off myself just fine before we fucked, I – I mean, fuck,” He blurted out and then he realized what he said and his face flustered even more as he slammed one of his hands to his forehead. He was just digging himself a hole. He wanted to be done with today and the sun wasn’t even up yet. ”I – you – you’ve texted me before! So obviously you’d rather fuck me than yourself, Princess!” Not that he was complaining... she could fuck him all she wanted. Wait. What the fuck was he thinking?! She could fuck him all she wanted... how desperate was that!?

He looked at her face, then, after his eyes had been distracted by the skin of her thighs. He was oblivious to her looking at him which was probably in Chardonnay’s best interest, because it just made him think she’d noticed him staring and was huffing about that. Arthur looked away from her when she prodded his chest, and sighed, trying to calm himself down with deep breaths. He ran his fingers through his tousled hair, which was still mess from the sex they’d had earlier. ”Well I thought you hurt yourself or some shit! So excuse me for finding it funny when you were fine, just sprawled out in my tub like a goddamn centerfold!” he glared back over at her when she said he was heavy, which he supposed he probably was, when he was practically crushing her under his weight. Though he felt a little bad about that it had all been her fault. ”I’m not making it your fault. It is your fault! You’re not just stubborn, you’re spoiled, too! You think that everything’s my fault and refuse to admit anything else!”

Even though he knew he hadn’t meant the sex, she found a way to twist it back to that. Again. And it flustered Arthur because he knew she was right in that regard – especially when she brought up moaning. His scowl gave way to a shocked expression before he brought his hands up to hide his face and groaned into his fingers. He saw her fold her arms over her chest and wished he hadn’t, because the shirt rode up and he could see the top of her thighs, and if he looked over, he could maybe see – no – no, he squeezed his eyes shut and couldn’t believe how she’d found a way to turn this on him. He was the one laughing! So why was she the one smirking and getting him to blush! God damn it, this wasn’t fair.

”You kissed me first! And maybe I suggested that, but you’re the one who came over with some bullshit excuse to get me in bed!” He pointed out, though it wasn’t as though he’d stopped her. He’d wanted to kiss her again for a long time after the party, after he calmed down. He would never due to his pride, and due to the fact they hated each other, but the thought had crossed his mind over the years. The thought that maybe she was just as attracted to him as he was to her, which – he was slowly beginning to regain confidence as he realized that was true. And of course, that day she’d come over to find her ‘makeup’ she’d left that night without even looking for it. Though the boxers incident had been a buzzkill and temporarily made him forget, he had remembered the next morning, and that thought had actually made his lips twitch up into a smile. Though now he wasn’t smiling at the memory and instead growled over at her. He was surprised she’d admitted she preferred fucking him than herself, but he wasn’t really surprised it was true, only that she’d actually admitted it. ”Don’t act like you don’t moan just as much as I do! Maybe even louder than I do! You never complain about my moaning when you’re on top of me!”

He glared at her smirk, hating the fact that all this dumb argument made him want to do was kiss her and drag her back to his bed. How the fuck had he argued with her for all those years without that desire ever surfacing? In this moment he wanted that mentality back, because it was very distracting – remembering how her moans had sounded was very distracting. His expression squirmed again as he folded his arms across his chest again.

As embarrassed as he was, he noticed the way that color rose to Chardonnay’s cheeks with satisfaction. Even if he was flustered it was good to see that his actions had a consequence to her, too. Even though she was writhing much less than he, he could still tell he was having an effect on her. Getting her to be embarrassed was so satisfying, especially when it was about this, and especially when she had a much stronger effect on him. Her excuse made him roll his eyes in disbelief. Who the hell did she think she was kidding, who on earth would believe that?

”You didn’t even listen to me when I opened the door! You just grabbed me and kissed me and didn’t even stop to look for it before you left! I was listening, you know, for the door to shut! And before you bring it up: no I didn’t mind, but that’s what you did! What the fuck did you even forget?! Some stupid makeup thing?!” Obviously what she’d left wasn’t that important, or she wouldn’t have kissed him first. If it was important she would have looked for that thing first, and then maybe tried to fuck him later. But she’d wanted them to become fuckbuddies just as much as he had. He squirmed at the reminder of last week, when he’d just grabbed her and pulled her into his room. He was still embarrassed when he thought about that time, because he hadn’t asked her much of anything. As long as she was still kissing him back, moaning and moving underneath him, and she hadn’t had any objections. He bit down on his lower lip at the memory. ”okay yeah, but you let me take you to the bed that time! It’s not my fault I – not my fault I had a bad day and wanted to – to –“ to be in control of something? No, that didn’t sound right, but... was that how he’d thought about it, being in control of the sex? Oh God, what the hell was he thinking of saying to her? He shook his head and groaned. ”you sure didn’t seem to mind last week when you were telling me not to stop!”

And then of course, she attacked his moans, and he knew he couldn’t deny that he was loud. He tried not to be but he couldn’t help it most of the time, especially not when she was on top of him, and he could see her moving, and his hands were on her hips, and oh God he couldn’t look at her anymore. He turned around to face something else – the mirror, which didn’t help when he saw how red his face was. God, as if flushing wasn’t annoying enough, his hair was black. It was even more noticeable. He turned on the water and washed off his face, trying to cool down his cheeks. ”God damn it! So what if I’m loud! I can’t help it! And then you – so – you like to be on top, too! Otherwise you wouldn’t just shove me onto the bed like you always do! Don’t act like you don’t, Princess!”

He had her back to her now and was still trying to wash his face off, as though he could will the flush away with water.

He was finally making more than just a dent in her composure, though it was only somewhat satisfying because anything he said could be used against him – literally. As for why he’d listened for the door to shut why... why had he? He didn’t need to specifically listen. He sound of the door closing would be audible even if he wasn’t listening for it. He was so aware of her, of everything she’d been doing that night, so he knew she hadn’t searched for it. He didn’t know how to say that without sounding more... hung up on her than he wanted to... but he knew she was bullshitting him, so who’s admission was going to be more embarrassing?! Probably hers, at least in his case, he knew what he was admitting!

Still he opened his mouth to speak, but sputtered, unable to bring himself to admit it. Fuck, fuck. Fine. Just let that go, he told himself. She wasn’t going to admit she hadn’t actually lost something. ”bullshit,” he snapped under his breath, but his words lacked a long spiel afterwards. Instead he focused on her snort after his almost embarrassing admission, trying not to let her reaction now bother him. He knew how she’d reacted in the moment, practically ripping his shirt and pants from his body. Even though he was teasing her about it here the memory of her pleading for him not to stop was a huge turn on, and he had basically dug his own grave already by the time she brought up his utterances during sex. Had he... actually said that out loud? Oh, fuck. And when she threw her hands up any attempts at avoiding staring flew out the window, and by the time he remembered to focus somewhere else she was tugging down the top of his shirt and the tops of her breasts were visible. It was a more generous view than cleavage but less than he got when she was sprawled underneath him in bed. But there was something sexier about this, almost teasing, that made him want to pull her into his bedroom and take the shirt off of her body and go for round two, even if they had fucked earlier that night. Because he really wanted to touch her boobs again and, as his face grew scarlet, that was the only thing he could think about. Well, that and getting her to moan out pleas for him not to stop again, in that lustful voice he still remembered so well, a voice that he didn't know she could even make and, wait, fuck! What the hell was he thinking?!

”It’s not my goddamn fault that you are! I – I didn’t even think I said that out loud – “ What was it with him and digging his own grave when it came to her! He threw his hands up and groaned, the water still running behind him. How many times had he said that?! More than once? The first time he didn’t think about that at all, but the third time...? The time he’d just dragged her to his room was the only time he remembered thinking about that, but when they were having sex his thoughts were generally very muddled. God. Thinking about the time he’d dragged her into his room made him feel like an animal with half the things he’d been thinking, and he could only pray he hadn’t said most of his thoughts out loud for the sake of his embarrassment.

He was almost relieved when she said she had to pee because it gave am excuse to high tail it from the room. He stared at her face for a second, taking in the embarrassed flush of her cheeks and the way her lips looked. Her hair was still frazzled from the sex earlier and even in the shitty lighting of his bathroom her eyes stood out, so unsure and irritated that if he wasn’t so flustered himself he would have laughed again. But he scoffed instead, and ran his fingers through his hair, eyes closed and eyebrows twitching. ”whatever, princess, you’re the one who just flashed me,” he muttered, shutting off the faucet as he moved to the door, trying to act like the memory of her flashing him didn’t bother him as much as it actually did.

After he’d been kicked out of the bathroom Arthur took a deep breath and tried not to think about anything. The stupid argument she brought up – why the hell did she have to go and make it so personal! So... she had to bring in sex, when he was explicitly not trying to think about that! He went in there to see if she was hurt, and then she wound up twisting it against him and he... he groaned as he sat on his side of the bed – wait, since when had it become his side of the bed, the whole damn thing was his! He expected her to come back and then just lie down, and then the both of them would go to sleep. He kind of hated it, though, because now he was feeling somewhat bothered and he wasn’t about to get himself off with her trying to sleep beside him – nor was he going to try and make a move on her again after what she’d done. So he made himself as comfortable as he could, trying to will the thoughts away as he heard the faucet run. Just sleep. And then he’d be able to sleep in, because he didn’t work that morning. His eyes were adjusted to the dark by the time she entered his bedroom again and he expected her to curl up beside him, and try to hog the covers. But instead she leaned down and kissed him and he didn’t hesitate before he kissed her back and sat up, his hands immediately undoing his shirt on her and moving towards her chest like he’d been fantasizing about earlier. Once he got her shirt unbuttoned he pushed her down onto the bed and moved his body against hers, already moving to hike his sweatpants down. They were both barely covered, so it was a quick start, more aggressive than it had been earlier, fueled by their argument, but he definitely wasn’t complaining about that.

That next morning he’d slept in – sex twice in one nice was new for him, but a welcome change – and usually once a week, they wound up hooking up. He rarely felt like he wasn’t in the mood and, if he wasn’t, seeing a text from her usually put him in the mood. It was something he started to look forward to, once a week, and something he came to even expect. So when he got an oddly timed text from her he was confused, and he was even more confused when he read it. And, admittedly, for a second, he felt insecure. The curtness of her ‘I’ll be busy all week’ made him think she just didn’t want to this week. If that was the case she could just tell him. He didn’t expect her to. Or maybe she, like he’d thought before, had been using Tinder or something and found a better date, a date fuckbuddy, and they were through? She’d get sick of him eventually, even if it wasn’t now, right? Whatever. Just because the more they had sex the more he wanted it, didn’t mean the feeling was mutual.

Didn’t matter – he didn’t need the distraction, anyway. This week his boss was picking the two candidates to become assistant managers and he needed to focus on that.

He sighed and was about to put his phone down when he got another text from her than made him crack a smile, despite the fact it meant that she wouldn’t be coming over. He felt a little better when he knew that her family was coming over – it meant that she just didn’t want to expose their... fuckbuddy-ship to them. Which he understood, and the thought of her coming over while her parents were at her condo just... no, he didn’t want to take her away from them and besides, that would distract him, because he liked her father (he’d never met her mother) and thinking about what that guy would say to him if he found out the nature of their relationship was just... not something he wanted to happen. So it was for the best. He replied to her, okay, have fun. and then didn’t text her or expect another text from her for a while.

Work got busier for the summer, and a bunch of the new part-timers were shit at their job. They didn’t do the work required of them and, even with his help, he found that most of the kids were getting clocked out well over the time they should have been clocked out. Mr. Carmichael said it was fine, that they were new and learning, but Arthur could see the stupid little shitheads texting under the counter, and he swore he saw one of the boys looking at snapchat while there was a line of people waiting to be attended to. Not to mention the kid had a bad attitude and despite warnings from Mr. Carmichael, he hadn’t changed.

Arthur wound up having to yell at the stupid kid after his shift because Mr. Carmichael hadn’t been willing to. Initially he’d been angry enough to let his temper get the best of him and he snapped, but the kid was 15 and hadn’t expected to be snapped at that aggressively and started crying at some point and now who looked like an asshole? Of all of the positions he had to do as one of the supervisors, he had to say dealing with the part-timers was his least favorite. He stared at the crying boy’s face and wondered if he’d ever looked that pudgy. Not necessarily that he was calling the boy fat, but his cheeks were round with youth, and stained red with the blotchiness of his tears. Arthur wound up apologizing to the kid and getting him a free slushie even though that meant he had to clean the stupid machine a second time that night before he left. The kid really wasn’t that bad. He’d probably just been bored. Arthur knew what it was like to be a bored part-timer at work... but when there was a line practically out the door, he’d never looked at his stupid phone. He sat down with the kid at one of the benches until he calmed down, not wanting to send him home in hysterics. He knew the kid’s mother was a regular here, and he’d be getting an earful the next time she came in.

He was right. A few days later who came in but the furious mother of that kid, her nostrils flaring. Her son was working part time that day and when he saw his mother come in, flushed with embarrassment as she found her way to the manager’s office. Arthur was in there while Mr. Carmichael was out, and his other coworker, one of the other supervisors vying for the promotion, was watching the part-timers. Arthur knew who was coming in by the heels of her shoes as they clacked on the tile.

Dealing with her was easier – he apologized for losing his temper, but told her that this was a place that had a zero tolerance policy for electronics on the job. The woman kept trying to bring the argument back to how he was a horrible person but it didn’t affect him – at least he acted like he didn’t – and by the end of a half hour he got her calmed down and she finally left. He couldn’t stand dealing with parents of kids who came in here looking for jobs. Most of the parents wanted some cushiony job for their kids who would rather stay at home and watch TV all day. They made for shitty workers and they were in and out every summer. It wasn’t like he expected any of them to stick around like he had, but they could at least work hard.

When he went home after that day, Arthur was incredibly stressed out and almost texted Chardonnay until he remembered her prior text that she was going to be busy and cursed to himself. Of course she was going to be busy with her family when he was stressed beyond belief. Not only was the incident with the crybaby part-timer fresh, but his boss was doing promotions next Friday, and he didn’t know if this was going to affect his chances at that or not. He took a few deep breaths. He had to calm down. What the hell had him so riled up lately? Whatever it was, he hated it.

He took a long, well deserved shower and then watched some anime until he had to go to bed. The next day he had off, he spent with Susan and Adelaide.

Adelaide was just as rambunctious as ever, and when her uncle came over she ran to him with outstretched arms and expected affection. He picked her up and made a big deal about how big she was getting, which resulted in him getting whacked with a floppy little hand. Her birthday was coming up and she was ecstatic for it. Susan was planning a party, and Arthur was there to help set it up. He and his niece were in the kitchen, baking a cake (a key lime pie one, that was Adelaide’s favorite flavor) when Susan screamed from the living room and said she saw Chardonnay on TV.

Arthur almost dropped the mixing bowl when his sister said that, and before he could stop himself he peeked through her little kitchen window to see the TV. She was there, all right, with some other fancy cooks and her father. He felt stupid trying to make a key lime pie cake from a box he’d bought in the store in comparison, but whatever. Susan started to talk about her after that, saying how much she missed her. Arthur toned her out and instead scooped up a big thing of the cake mix and waved it in Adelaide’s face. She laughed hysterically at that, because the cake mix “looked like snot”. The TV was still on but Susan was only half watching. When the girls were joking and throwing flower at each other Arthur found himself sneaking peeks at the TV, frowning at the way the camera panned over her body. Was she on the menu or something? Whatever, he was probably just looking over at the most awkward moments, and he pointedly ignored Susan’s comment that she looked like a “fine young woman” now.

Of course she would be on some stupid cooking show, wouldn’t she? He focused in on his family, and put the cake in the oven. When all was said and done, Susan and Adelaide were “too tired” to clean so he was the one who had to clean their mess and make the kitchen of Susan’s apartment look habitable again. The girls were still watching the cooking show, and Susan loudly wondered if Chardonnay missed her. Without missing a beat Arthur replied “not a chance”, and that made Susan whine and Adelaide giggle in hysterics. Still, as he cleaned the kitchen he found himself wondering if she missed him. Of course she didn’t. He rolled his eyes as Susan started talking about how cool Mr. Nicholas was, even though he kind of agreed.

Adelaide’s party was filled with children her age, and of course Annabelle had been invited, along with the Halls. Susan was happy to be in the company of her best friend and, when he wasn’t being dragged around by his niece, Arthur didn’t mind talking to Johnathan. Adelaide had gotten most all of the presents she’d wanted and loved her ‘snot’ cake, so overall, it was a success. At the end of the night, Susan had said that the three of them would definitely go to Annabelle’s birthday party in a few weeks. Arthur cleaned, again, but this time his sister helped him out while Adelaide played with her best friend (who she’d begged to stay over that night) in her room. The girls were in bed by the time Arthur left and by then both he and Susan were exhausted. When he pulled his sister in for a goodbye hug he didn’t let go when he usually did, which confused her at first, but she smiled and let him hug her for as long as he needed. He didn’t realize how much he craved comfort after that week’s monstrosity until he’d gotten it. He thanked her, and then departed to his house.

By the time Arthur was home, it was late. He glanced at the clock – it was almost midnight. He sat on his couch and watched something stupid on his laptop. He had requested tomorrow off in lieu of Adelaide’s party being exhausting and God he was thankful that he had. He didn’t want to go to work in the morning. He didn’t think he could physically bring himself to do it. He yawned and then he heard it – a buzz. His yawn stopped short and he stared down at his phone in confusion. He picked it up and his heart skipped a beat. Chardonnay was texting him at – he looked at the time stamp – almost 1 in the morning? Wasn’t it late? She wouldn’t get here until 2 AM, at the earliest.

But he still couldn’t fight the smile that twitched onto his lips when he imagined being able to kiss her again. So, he replied.

Yeah. I’m up. No work tomorrow. He hit send, and stared at his ceiling, thankful she was planning to come over despite the hour. God, he could use a good lay right about now.

When she came over, Arthur was there at the door and opened it, looking over at Chardonnay. It was dark and the light positioned outside his apartment was the only thing illuminating her. He stared at her for a few seconds, watching the way her lip twitched. She was looking at him different than she normally did, different than she ever had, and it threw him off for a second before she stepped in and shut the door. He kissed her and she kissed him back and fuck he missed this feeling of her lips on his. How the hell had he gone so long from their first kiss without caving like this? He didn’t know and, though when he was in college he appreciated it because it helped him avoid her, now he couldn’t imagine feeling any way else. He dragged her to his room and touched her desperately, already feeling the blood rushing down his body as he got her out of her dress. They made it to his door before she took control and shoved him down onto his bed and he didn’t mind, because he had lost his shirt by then and all that was left were his pants.

He noticed a slight hesitation when she started to pull down his boxers and, for a moment, he was concerned that she was about to laugh again – was he wearing plaid boxers? He hadn’t expected to have her come over for a long time and so he had started paying less attention to his boxers. He really didn’t want to stop here – he was so close to getting inside her, so painfully close to getting relief that he was about to say something to get her not to laugh. But then she tugged down the boxers and it wasn’t a hard yank like she’d done before, it felt good, and he turned the situation around and flipped their positions so he was on top of her, moaning when she ground against him, moving to remove the last bit of clothing that came between them.

The length of time they’d gone without sleeping together made this time more worth it, almost, at least for him, so when they finally finished he was really exhausted. He was almost too exhausted to put on his pants, but he’d wanted to go was his face off, anyway. So he slipped the pants on and went to the bathroom, staring at his reflection for a minute. His hair was messed up from her fingers running through it, he was still catching his breath, and God did he feel amazing. He washed his face and neck of sweat before he returned back to his room. He watched Chardonnays lump underneath his covers shift for a second before he flicked off the light and crawled into bed beside her, curling up himself, falling asleep easily.

He was having a realitively dreamless sleep, a sleep that was disturbed by the feeling of something kicking his leg. He slowly woke up, groaning, rolling over to face Chardonnay. He was sure she was just trying to piss him off, so he was fully prepared to make some smart comment at her until he saw her face. He froze, watching her eyebrows twitch and body tremble. It was so... weird to see her looking so freaked out, even sleeping. Every time he’d woken up first he saw her face looking calmer than it ever was. He liked to discover new expressions, but this was an expression he didn’t like to see on her face. It was concerning.

”...hey. Hey.” He sat up unsure if he should wake her, watching as her eyes started to leak. His hand froze, when she started to talk in her sleep, begging for something to stop. He couldn’t take watching her like that anymore and decided she could yell at him all she wanted later if he could be sure she was all right. He put a hand on her shoulder and shook her, trying to wake her, growing more awake by the second. ”What’s wrong?”

She didn’t wake up easily, and that only made him more concerned. He shook her until she wrenched herself from his grasp and he stopped touching her immediately, staring at her with widened eyes, his hand that had once been shaking her shoulder clenching and unclenching as he tried to think of something to do. He didn’t know what was wrong and it made his heart beat erratically, out of concern. He didn’t know how her week had gone, he didn’t know if she was having any kind of struggles, and maybe he’d hurt her, somehow? No, that wouldn’t be it, right? He stared at her as she tugged the blankets closer to herself and almost fell off of the bed. He looked into her panicked eyes and forgot how to breathe, because never in his life had he ever seen Chardonnay look so frazzled, so human, so... emotional. He wanted to know what was wrong, and he wanted to stop it from ever bothering her again, even though he knew that thought was irrational, that was his first instinct. He hated to see her cheeks stained with tears, and she was struggling to breathe, the sound loud compared to the stillness of his room.

It had to be 6 AM, the sun was beginning to bleed in through his curtains, but just barely, and only on a small corner of the room, not the bed. He could see her clearly, as she flopped down onto the bed and tried to calm herself. Her shoulders were still shaking and she let out a sob and he swallowed a lump in his throat. It was so quiet he could hear every sound she made clearly. He heard every shift of the covers, and every shuttered breath.

”Chardonnay, what’s wrong?” He asked. Hesitantly, he reached his hand over, to touch her. He inched himself forward on the bed, so that he was leaning down over her face, and his brow twitched when he saw the fresh tracks staining her cheeks. He wanted to wipe them off of her, or hug her, or something because that was what he was used to doing when people were crying in front of him. But her reaction to his hand had him on edge only because he didn’t want to scare her again, if she was still only half awake. He sighed. ”...are you... are you okay?”